Still Up There On the Mountain
by scousemuz1k
Summary: For Snoop Mary Mar. Sequel to All the Other Acronyms. Conversation between Tim and Tony; Tony's still feeling the after-efects of his fun in the Blue Ridge Mountains. NOT one for Ziva fans.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I wrote this in response to Snoop Mary Mar's comment that she felt 'All the** **Other Acronyms'** **was incomplete. She sketched out what she felt was missing**, **and gave me the basis for a whole sequel**. **Thanks!**

**Probably a two-shot, and not for Ziva fans.**

Still Up There On the Mountain

by scousemuz1k

A warm, pleasant, late March day. Lucy lay on her blanket spread out on the grass, and played with her toes. She wore a look of triumph that she'd managed to get her sock off again; her godfather wore a look of resignation.

"Just don't _lose _it," he admonished severely. Miss Hastings didn't look chastened for a moment; she simply beamed and giggled. Her companion couldn't help returning the smile, no matter how little like it he really felt. He stretched out on his side, propped himself up on his elbow, and carried on the conversation he'd been having with her.

"See, I should be on desk duty right now. Today's _Friday_, then there's _Saturday_, and _Sunday_, and Uncle Ducky says I can go back in the field on _Monday_!"

"_Gloop."_

"No, Sweetie, this isn't a field, it's just a nice bit of grass. With big guns. Between NCIS and the river. And it's not that sort of field anyway."

"_Ooo."_

"Well, Great Uncle Bear – I mean Gibbs… well, when he heard your daddy had to go to see your grandpa – the nasty one, that is, the one in prison – "

"_Eep!"_

"Yes, I know… it's not nice, li'l Squeak. Not nice at all for Daddy." He tried not to grimace. Patch's mother had filed for divorce; heaven only knew what mood Arthur would be in. "Mommy went along so he wouldn't be alone, and they asked me to look after you for a couple of hours. Nobody wants to take a little 'un like you to a place like that, so of course your Uncle Tony said sure, you can come to NCIS and say hello to all your fans there."

"_Ooo!"_

"Well, Uncle Poppa Bear said sure, cuz he _always_ does what you tell him… but you know how it is."

"_Erk."_

"You see, you agree. There was no work getting done. Everyone stopping to admire _Miss_ Lucy Hastings. So… we came out here. It's a beautiful day, and we can sit here, and just hope that your momma and poppa aren't having a bad time of it."

"_Gooo…"_

"Yeah… gooo. You know, li'l Tadpolly – Tadpatch? Tadpollypatch? Which d'you prefer? I can have more intelligent conversations with you than with most grown-ups. And we make each other laugh. I love you to bits, Lucy Aiden Antonia…Aw, come on now, Poppet, is this the time to fall asleep? When a guy's declaring his undying love?"

The soft, level sound of her godfather's voice was making the five-month-old's eyelids droop, so he talked nonsense until she snuffled and slept, and then sighed as he was able to sit up and relax the smile he'd been wearing for her. He pulled the corners of her blanket over her legs, drew his knees up and leaned his fore-arms against them. He would have put his face down on them, that was if he'd had any intention of taking his eyes off Lucy for even a moment.

Damn, damn, damn…

He'd been doing fine; his fears hadn't been realised. He hadn't hated the person he'd found when his memory returned. Some aspects had jolted him, for sure… he guessed that was the plus side of what he'd been through – he could see things he hadn't seen before, and maybe change them.

But today… today was heavy with memories. Thinking of what Patch must be going through visiting his father, the appalling Arthur; and remembering the events that led to the elder Hastings being sent to prison for eighteen years, had put him in a sombre mood that not even the company of his adored godchild could lift. And of course being him, he told himself derisively, once he was in that mood, he was going to stay there. Recycling every bad thing that had happened since. Or before. Right now he felt as if he were still –

"Tony." McGee's greeting was quiet, in deference not only to the sleeping infant, but to the body language of her guardian, that had been clear from fifty feet away.

The SFA put the smile back on his face before he turned; here, unwittingly, (or so he thought) came part of the reason for his heavy heart. "Hey, McGee…can't keep away from her?"

Tim replied lightly, as he dropped down onto the grass on the other side of Lucy's blanket, "Who could? Thought you might be in Lucy's favourite spot."

Then he stopped. Now he was here, he felt utterly awkward about using any of the opening lines he'd rehearsed. He'd formed his Good Idea when he'd watched Tony gather the baby and all her stuff up, saying he'd take her out front for a bit of fresh air; but it had been difficult to find a moment to explain to Gibbs without Abby or Ziva noticing. As soon as he had done, he stole out, and now here he sat, tongue-tied.

Tony felt the same. He was actually_ afraid_ to talk seriously with Tim, however much he needed to. He had been ever since his memory had returned. Even though he remembered the younger man's delighted reaction at the time, so many other memories surged back that were at odds with that, that he was twisting up inside. OK, so he hadn't actually hated himself, but he guiltily recalled some pretty rough hazing… his frat brothers would have given it straight back, but this innocent, genius greenhorn didn't even know where to begin…

And then, years later… when he was suddenly Vance's wunderkind… Tony wondered if _he'd _ever sounded as malicious as Tim did in those days. He had to conclude that the answer was yes, and that McGee didn't mean it any more than he did. He'd gone to Somalia with him without hesitation, hadn't he? Pulled him up from the Stairwell of Death?

_I think we're friends… for all the bickering we've done, it __**feels**__ like we're friends… I'd step in front of a bullet for him without thinking twice… he'd do it for me, too… so why was he nervous? In the hospital? Why did I make him nervous? Is it the bickering? I kind of thought he enjoyed it too… Was I __**that **__wrong? Dammit, get a grip… Why's he nervous now? Why am __**I**__ nervous? Say __**something,**__ DiNozzo… put him out of his misery, dammit. Ask him how he got away from work._

"So Gibbs let you take a break and come down here?"

"Gibbs sent Abby back down to the lab, and found something urgent for Ziva to do."

They each spoke at the same time, and then laughed, slightly embarrassed. As if they hadn't known and worked with each other for six years. Tony pulled a blade of grass and twisted it in his hands. "You think we need to talk. Gibbs agrees, so he keeps the girls from joining in."

Tim thought maybe that was why he'd blurted out what he did, rather than any of the things he'd planned. He knew Tony would hear instantly what he _wasn't_ saying. "Tony… I just… you know… things are still bothering you… you've been quiet… and when the hell have I ever known you to be _tentative _about anything?Maybe I shouldn't – "

"Be tentative?"

"Touche. O-kay…" Tim looked down at the baby, who giggled in her sleep, and smiled at her, then looked steadily back at Tony. Here goes. "You've been back at work a week, and today, having Lucy here, is the first time I've seen you relaxed and happy. Oh sure, you've smiled, and been cheerful, but you haven't once initiated a conversation, not even a work related one. Not with Gibbs, not with me, not with Ziva. You've looked wary when we've spoken to you. You've plugged away at the paperwork, and when you've wanted conversation, you've found some excuse to go and see Abby."

"Wary?"

"Yeah," Tim said firmly. "Why are you wary of _me_, Tony? What the hell are you expecting? Where's the bickering? The movie quotes? D'you know how much I _miss _trading insults?"

"You do?" Tony's look of surprise was comical. "I…" he thought for a moment. "I always thought we enjoyed it, you know? That it was how we were. Much easier than getting heavy and swearing eternal brotherhood."

He pulled another stalk of grass, having massacred the first one. "You know… in Somalia… I actually tried to stop myself from saying that bit about you had the heart of a lion? Because it's not what we do… Then I thought hey, just don't fight it. Then – in the hospital – lying there with a mind that was a complete blank, in come all these people who seem to know me. There's this young guy who says his name's McGee, and I don't know him, although it's clear he knows me."

Tony looked at the ground, and hesitated. "He's nervous," he finally said painfully. "He's nervous of me. And I look at him, and honestly, he seems like a fresh faced kid by comparison with what I feel like I am. Being obsessed with myself because it's the most urgent thing on my mind, and without being able to reach any of it but still knowing I carry a lot of baggage, I'm afraid of what it is that makes this nice kid wary of me!"

Tim nodded, frowning as he recalled that time. "I couldn't hide it, you know? I felt guilty that I wasn't a better actor. It's why I don't go undercover, I guess! I was meeting a totally stressed out, injured stranger for the first time, who I didn't want to be a stranger… I wanted him to be _you_. I don't think I handled it too well." He risked a grin, and echoed something Tony had said in the hospital. "I'll only say this once, and only cuz Lucy isn't listening. I was frantic with worry. I didn't want to think what it'd be like never to have my friend back. And I couldn't think of anything else! That's why I almost hugged you, the next day when I knew it _was _you."

Tony's voice held a curious mixture of relief, disbelief, joy, and a residual twinge of anxiety. "That's it? You're _sure_? I mean, it wasn't the ragging? I think… I came back to my memories like a stranger seeing them for the first time. The hazing… I thought it was that, and I'd been wrong all along about the eternal brotherhood thing. I felt bad. Deprived. Cruel. Guilty. It was too much, y'know?"

Tim answered obliquely. "D'you remember what happened the first time I answered you back? Like, five years ago?"

"No!"

"You told me I'd led a sheltered life, and I said that when I needed advice on the big wide world I'd sooner ask National Geographic than you. I winced and waited to be chewed up and spat out. You stood there, with the biggest shit-eating grin – er, sorry, Lucy – I've ever seen, and I've seen a few from you – and Gibbs-slapped yourself. You muttered 'nice one', and went back to your desk, still grinning."

"Now I remember…"

"I began to realise that biting back was what you wanted from me, and I started to get braver. Does that put things into perspective?" As Tony nodded wonderingly, he added grouchily, "You can still beat me hands down, though."

"Hah. Not always – "

"If you're going to mention the 'golden boy' phase, when I said –"

"No, I don't. Didn't mean that. Don't want you to go there, McGee!"

Tim grinned as this friend's rather bullish confidence showed signs of returning. "We're good, then? _You're _good?"

What the hell had he said? The smile wavered at the edges, and suddenly the one that Tim rather disliked, the mask, replaced it. "Yeah, we're good, McCounsellor."

Tim looked him in the eye again, his eyes flashing with something like anger. "You haven't answered the other question."

"Ol' buddy, why would –"

"Tony, don't put that g'damn mask back. Not with me, not now."

"OK." Heavy sigh. "Sorry. OK. I get it. It might be another five years before we get to this stage of opening up again. Stupid to stop now. But…"

Tim backed off a little, but not altogether. "Sure. You don't want to talk about it." He looked at his hands for a moment and took a deep breath. Here goes, take two. "You can't go to Abby, because they're friends, and you don't want to diss one friend to another. You can't go to Gibbs because he thinks of her as a daughter, and you'd never spoil that. You won't confront her about it, because your method's always been to suck it up and carry on."

He looked at Lucy again. _I did it once… over Lucy. I found the words. I can do it again. I need to have his six on this. He needs to __**know**__ it. _

"You don't take action on your own behalf; you just fix yourself and smile. You won't talk about her behind her back to Ducky or Jimmy. But _I've_ seen it for myself, and I don't like it, and you don't need to pretend to me."

Tony sighed. "Ziva."

"Yeah."

"Don't know what to think. You know… it feels like I'm still up there on the mountain, trying to find a way down."

"In Somalia… you told her you couldn't live without her."

"Yeah… but she's sure not a girl you could live _with_."

Tim rolled his eyes in a way that made Tony think of Gibbs and grin in spite of himself. "Are you deliberately trying to make my job harder?"

His friend was instantly contrite. "No. Sorry."

"You're not still in love with her." It wasn't a question.

"After Somalia I gave her space; thought she was asking me to… the next thing I know is, she's dangling Damon Werth under my nose. When I asked her if she was going to see him again, she just smiled. She was delighted that she could keep me guessing like that."

"I remember. She could see you were anxious, but she wouldn't do anything about it."

"Yes, well, that's the moment I gave up. Next thing, she's on my case over Dana Hutton. If she didn't want me, why would she care? She laughed over Brenda, and called me the class clown. Then…" he furrowed his brow, remembering, "She's sitting on my hospital bed, coming on to me, and I don't know her from the Duke, and she's accusing me of pretending, and keeping you all outside waiting all day… Shit, Tim, that scared me, that I might be the sort who'd be malicious enough to do that!" He paused. "If I'm honest, it hurt."

"Don't suppose my nervousness helped," Tim said gloomily.

"Aah… we've done this. Gibbs sorted it out. But…" he looked down at the grass, then his head jerked up. "All right, I'll say it, then I'm done. She doesn't love me. She's got this Ray guy. Which is fine. I never want to love like that again. But she acts like she owns me, and gets snarky when I won't play. And she never opens her mouth to me but to put me down. Hard to laugh it off, Tim. I'm not incompetent, or a loser, and if she thinks I am, how can we work as a team? Right. Now I _am_ done."

"You're none of those things," Tim said positively. "She'll give up in the end. It'll get better." That was said so firmly Tony blinked. Tim just grinned. "Trust me, I'm a geek."

Tony returned the grin, the miseries melting away more quickly than he'd believed possible. Now he'd let it all out he felt better. The mountain was more or less a molehill again, and behind him, as he thanked his friend. They talked for a while longer, just letting the intensity ebb away and returning to their usual level, realising how much they'd missed it.

Tim said finally, "Hey, I think Lucy's waking up." He stood up. "And Gibbs didn't give me open ended leave. Chill. See you back in the squad room when you're ready." He wandered away across the grass as Tony smiled slowly, and picked Lucy up. She was toasty from her short nap, and ready to be entertained, and her godfather dutifully began his routine of songs and silly faces. A voice called, "Lucy, give the poor guy a break," and the little girl squeaked with delight as her parents returned.

After handing her over, and accepting an invitation to dinner to hear all about the visit, Tony headed for the coffee bar before returning to the bull pen. Gibbs looked up as the warm fragrance drifted under his nose, nodded his thanks, and raised a questioning eyebrow. Tony grinned back at him. OK, not such a high wattage, but a grin nevertheless, as he set two cups down by the Boss's computer. He distributed the others, although Tim and Ziva were both away from their desks, then returned to his pile of paperwork, with more energy than he'd felt for a while. He began to hum to himself. Gibbs smiled.

Tim and Ziva returned from opposite directions; Tim sat down, but Ziva remained standing, looking round.

"You appear to have forgotten something, Tony."

He looked up, grinning, from the file he was studying. "No, Ziva – your coffee's there, behind your pen pot. I put it there where it wouldn't get knocked over before you spotted it." It had happened before.

"No," she said, with some impatience at having to explain her joke, "I meant your god-daughter."

Tony's face fell, although he tried to keep his tone light. "Lucy's hardly a _thing_, Ziva," he said softly, then buried his face in his file again.

The cheerful atmosphere evaporated as quickly as it had formed. Tim screwed his face up in exasperation. _'Oh, shit!'_

**AN: I always feel that I rush my endings, because I stay up far too late, to write. But please let me know what you think anyway.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: OK, so it might be stretching coincidence a bit to bring Kath back for a brief appearance, but 1) I love to recycle, and 2) How many Police Lieutenants can DC have anyway…**

Still Up There On the Mountain

Chapter 2

Tim didn't know if he should blunder into the silence or let the atmosphere freeze still further. Think. OK, no need to blunder. He lifted his cup and said, "Thanks for the coffee, Tony. How were Polly and Patch?"

"You're welcome. Not good." Tony flashed his friend a look. He was grateful for the distraction. He was wondering if he was being over sensitive; Ziva could prod at him all she liked, but Lucy was out of bounds. She hadn't meant it to sound that way, he knew, but she didn't mind suggesting, in the guise of a joke, that he was dim enough to forget Lucy. Never mind, he'd just told himself she could go ahead.

"They were in a bit of a state – really weren't up to talking about it. I'm going over tomorrow night if we don't pull a case in the meantime; Polly said they'd have calmed down enough by then. Lucy'll take care of them. The one thing Patch did say was that Arthur's making veiled threats against anyone and everyone, including his wife, Tam, Sunny, Keshowse, oh, and us… I'm going to try to find out who he's been talking to, associating with in prison, to see if there's any real problem. My gut says not –"

"Can't really see Hastings Senior being able to get anyone, inside or out of prison, to do what he wants," Gibbs agreed.

Tony nodded wryly. "I'm with you on that, Boss. And his former associates are in other establishments. I'm just not going to assume anything."

Tim nodded. "Let me know if there's anything I can do."

"And keep us posted," Gibbs added.

"Sure," Tony said agreeably, and the awkward moment passed. After a while he was humming to himself again, Tim wondered if he was even aware it was Jack Jones's 'The Mood I'm In'.

True to NCIS form, it was drawing towards evening, and they were all thinking about home when Gibbs' desk pone picked up his cell, glanced at it, muttered something rude, dropped it carelessly, and picked up the landline instead. He wrote for a moment, while Tim inspected the dropped mobile. "Grab your gear. Marine holding his wife hostage."

They all leapt to their feet, including Tony, who then hesitated, sighed, and sat down again. Gibbs almost relented and told him 'you too', but he remembered the consequences of his SFA returning to the field before he was ready. Ducky had said, "Even Monday is barely adequate, Jethro, but we know what he's like."

Tony was back at his desk, and the Boss was about to say something mildly sympathetic, when Ziva said sweetly, "You cannot come with us, Tony. Have you forgotten you are on desk duty?"

Gibbs frowned, although his tone was only mildly reproving when he said, "That's for me to decide, Ziva. Still, it's a pity DiNozzo _can't_ come; he's usually good in hostage situations."

Tony flashed a shark-wide, dangerous smile, that one that Tim hated, if this kept up, the poor guy would give in and _blow_… but he replied mildly enough, "Concerned about my memory again, Ziva? I promise you, I got it back three weeks ago. Give me what you've got, Boss, and I'll get you everything I can."

Gibbs handed him the paper, with one of those silent questions. _'You good?'_

'_I'm good, Boss.'_ The grin was easy.

Tim paused by his friend's desk. "Boss's run his battery flat. Ring me? And I've got his six, OK?"

Tony actually let affection creep in at the corners of his voice. "Yeah. Get gone, McGee. Watch yourself too."

McGee got gone. He was glad that Gibbs had spoken up; maybe if Ziva realised she was alone in her attitude, she might reconsider it.

Tony pushed it all aside; there was work to do. He put Gibbs' phone to charge, and pulled the address given; it did indeed belong to a marine currently attached to a training unit in Virginia. A single man. Huh? He checked. The man was where he should be, with his unit, slap bang in the middle of Holiday Lake State Park, running a youth camp for potential recruits.

OK, maybe the dispatcher meant girlfriend. He called her up, and no, he'd said wife. She sent him a recording. His hackles rose at once. It couldn't be…

"_Hello? Hello? Look, there's a guy across the street… he just dragged his wife into the house, screaming at her. He called her a cheating trollop, said he was going to cut her throat. I started over there… he took a shot at me. He's a marine… I seen him in uniform sometimes. She keeps screaming… "_

"_What's your name, Sir?"_

"_Huh? Oh, er… er…Parker."_

The call ended, and Tony's blood ran cold. He knew that voice. What were the odds? Horowitz was in a secure mental facility – for life. Wasn't he? He rang a colleague in Baltimore, and almost cried when the sergeant was actually there, and willing to help. A few gut churning minutes, which he filled by starting to hunt for the bomb lover, police hater's present whereabouts, then the file arrived in Tony's in-box. Yep, it was identical, but for the hostage taker being a marine. That word trollop… who used it? And Parker… that was the name Horowitz had used before…

Caspar Horowitz, aged forty-nine, sentenced to life eleven years ago…currently – _shit!_ Absconded from half-way house five days ago – what was he even _doing _there? Whereabouts unknown. Never mind,Tony knew exactly where he'd be. He'd been after police before, now he was after NCIS. And the really bad thing was that it was likely _him_ he was after; he was the only one who'd been there then, should have been there now, and he was the one who'd spotted the trap. And he was the only one it wasn't likely to get this time.

His back began to itch, remembering the sting of shrapnel as he'd annoyed his Captain by bearing him to the ground – _"DiNozzo_, w_hat the hell –" _the rest of it cut off by the sound of the explosion. He called up Tim's number. In use.

Trying to stay calm, he called Ziva.

"Tony, what do you want? We –"

"Ziva. Tell Gibbs not to go into the house. Tell them all not to –"

"Tony, we have to. There is a woman in there who needs –"

"No, there isn't. There's nobody in the house – Look, Ziva, there's no time to argue about this. Tell Gibbs not to look surprised, but it's a trap. He's there somewhere watching…"

"Tony, that's ridiculous. We can hear a woman screaming."

"Yes, and it sounds exactly the same every time, yes? Is there a doll on the front steps? There _are _steps, right?"

"I cannot see from here. It is getting dark. And I cannot interrupt Gibbs, he is talking to the police chief. It is that Lieutenant he seems to get on so well with. I will not –"

"Ziva! Do you want me to make this a direct order? You're wasting time. _Tell Gibbs now! _I can't reach McGee – "

"He is speaking to Abby. He – "

She heard the phone clatter down at the other end, and stood looking at hers for a while in inner debate; half inclined to think Tony was just desperate to get in on the case somehow, then she started very slowly forwards. Did she really think that of him? She stopped dead again, in bewilderment. There was a large rag-doll lying on the front porch steps.

Abby squeaked. "Tony – what – ?"

He hadn't waited for the elevator, but annoyed his recently injured foot by jumping down the stairs three at a time, to race into the lab and snatch the phone out of her hands. "Tim? Tell them all not to go near the house. It's a trap! A bomber. He's there in the crowd somewhere."

Tim didn't hesitate, and he didn't get it wrong. He calmly walked to Gibbs as if giving a report, and repeated, softly, what Tony was telling him. Kath Wigg listened gravely too, and began calmly issuing orders.

"Caspar Horowitz, Boss. Nut job. Loves seeing people blown up, that's why the doll's on the front porch, not inside the house. He got life; he's out somehow. Tony helped take him down in Baltimore, now he's here. In the crowd. Abby's sending me a picture… now."

He handed the phone to Gibbs. "Hostage negotiator's on his way, Boss, wants to speak to you," he said loudly.

"Did you get the picture, Gibbs?" Abby's voice was anxious. Tim and Ziva, who had joined them, strained to hear what the forensics specialist was saying.

"We got it, Abs. And we can see the doll on the porch. Positioned so you just couldn't help pick it up. Hold on."

Kath brought him up to date, and borrowed the phone. "Tell Tony he was right. And tell him Kath says thanks. We're making out we haven't figured it, but there's a perimeter being set up; the bomb squad won't show until we've got him. He won't get away from the scene. Tell Tony we'll get him."

"And Abby, tell him –"

"He's not here, Gibbs."

"Where is he?"

"I think he's on his way to you, Gibbs…"

That almost got a reaction from Gibbs; only long experience and professionalism kept his body language unaltered, and the expletive off his lips. "OK, Abs. I'll take care of him – er, it." He disconnected, and at once, Tim's phone rang again.

"McGee! Something else… Horowitz went grey while he was in prison. I'm on my way down cuz I might recognize him faster than anyone else –"

"Ya think, DiNozzo?" Gibbs' reply was hissed, but Tim and Ziva both swung away from watching the crowd to listen.

"Oh, Hi, Boss!" Tony tried to sound airy. "I'm guessing you're setting up a perimeter?"

If ya can't beat 'em, join 'em, Gibbs decided. He was never going to change Tony. "Well, no, DiNozzo. We're going to just let him walk out of here. And who's looking after the shop?"

"You know Abby is, Boss. And she knows what to look for. If she finds anything else we need she'll send it to Ziva's cell. Keep yours _ er, I mean McGee's, free."

"Sure." A sudden random train of thought was set up in Gibbs' mind. "Why didn't you just call Ziva? Would have been faster than running down to Abby."

"Well… er, I needed Abby's input, Boss. Be there in a minute." Was there something hasty about the way he closed the call? Gibbs shrugged inwardly. Something for later. Tim, standing near and trying to look as if he wasn't scanning the crowd, had been wondering the same thing. He glanced at Ziva, who determinedly watched the spectators, and said nothing. His phone beeped again; this time he answered it.

"One more thing, Boss…"

"It's me, Tony."

"Ah. One more thing, McMe – the screams. He may be a bit more sophisticated now, although he only disappeared five days ago, who's to know what reading material your average mad bomber gets his hands on in prison…"

"Tony…"

"Yeah, sorry. One of the ways we made him last time was that the scream was always the same."

"Only heard it twice, and yes it was. Recorded?"

"Yeah, and triggered remotely. Might be in his pocket of course, but he could be standing there holding the remote. We could be lucky."

"Got it." He paused and gave Gibbs the new information. "Boss says we'll try to shake things up a bit."

Kath picked up a bull-horn, and took up where she'd left off to talk to Gibbs. "Hey," she yelled. "It's gone quiet in there. We need to know if your wife's OK. We need you to tell us what you want." The only reply was the heart-rending scream. Tim and Ziva spoke together.

"Got him."

"The plaid jacket."

It was a warm March evening, but the man in the thick jacket also wore a hunter's hat with the earflaps down. What they could see of his hair was grey.

Kath held her position facing the house; one by one the MCRT began to alter position and fan out. Sergeant Fordham, Kath's second in command, distracted the crowd's attention by bringing her a vest and loudly insisting she put it on. "We have to go in soon, Lieutenant!" A murmur of ghoulish excitement ran through the crowd.

They'd nearly flanked Horowitz when a couple in the crowd decided they weren't going to be ghouls any longer, and began to move away. The bomber stiffened, as he saw plainly from the attitude of the young man revealed behind them that this was a cop, and he'd been made. He began to weave through the throng, knowing that the law wouldn't start shooting while there were innocent people around. Tim and Ziva followed, trying to keep him in sight until the crowd thinned out, by which time he had something of a head start. They raised their guns.

"NCIS! Freeze!"

Horowitz turned to face them and was debating this, on the brink of running, when another figure materialised behind him. The click of a Sig being cocked was accompanied by a genial "Caspar! Long time, no see!"

The bomber gave up without a fight, which was sensible. It didn't stop him from mouthing threats as Gibbs began to drag him away. "You've ruined my life again, DiNozzo! It was you I wanted to get! Eleven years I –"

Tony shook his head. "Caspar, Caspar… you didn't fool me the first time, you think you'd fool me the second? Eleven years you spent talking the shrinks into thinking you were a reformed character? I didn't ruin your life, Caspar, you did that when you started stuffing dollies with semtex and nails. I wish you luck with your next psychiatrist."

He turned on his heel, and Tim noticed the wince. "You've set that foot off again, chucking yourself down three flights of stairs. Why didn't you just phone Ziva?"

"Gibbs asked that. I needed Abby's input." His voice was light and without inflection, and Tim knew his friend well enough to recognise a porky when he heard one. Tony just grinned, thinking that was that, and ambled off to say hello to Kath, and watch the bomb squad piling sandbags around the doll. They didn't want the unfortunate marine to return from his camping trip to find the front of his house demolished.

Tim watched him go, and said very quietly to Ziva, "He _did_ call you, didn't he? You can't speak up and say so?"

"What are you implying? I can kill –"

"Don't give me that tired old paper clip threat, Ziva. It doesn't cut anything. Why didn't you say something?"

She didn't answer, and Tim held back on his rising anger. "He just covered for you, and you still can't cut him a break."

"He did not need to cover for me. I was on my way to tell Gibbs –"

"And it took you longer to walk across than it took him to get down to Abby."

"It seemed such a ridiculous story. I hesitated."

"So, you decided not to take him at his word?" Tim was incredulous. "You decided he was ridiculous? You decided that _Tony_ was ridiculous?"

Ziva looked at the floor and coloured slightly. "No… I…" She trailed off.

"Ziva." Tim's voice was quiet, but emphatic. "He is one of the best men you're likely to meet in your entire life. You know it. You don't need me to tell you. Why are you treating him like this?"

"Like what? I do not understand."

McGee took two steps round from her side to face her. "Well, let me help you. Whenever he shows interest in someone else, like Dana, or Jeanne for that matter, you don't like it. But when he _is_ available, for want of a better word, you keep him at a distance. Or tease him with the likes of Damon Werth. Well, I guess that's OK, Tony doesn't know what he wants either." He thought of Lucy, and the Hastings family. "Or, he didn't. But these days you can't open your mouth to him without putting him down, and I'm actually getting tired of hearing it."

"But all he does is joke – "

"You don't need me to tell you that's not true either. He's not incompetent, Ziva. He's not a loser. Why do you tell yourself that he is? He won't act on it, because he won't hurt you… and his way of dealing has always been to shrug it off. D'you think that makes him weak? It makes him stronger than you realise."

She was looking at him, standing stiff-backed, her face unreadable.

"Oh, now you're thinking I'm fighting his battles for him."

"I was not."

Tim thought she was telling the truth, but it was a point he wanted to make. "Do you think the guy who instigated, planned and led the operation in Somalia just to avenge you needs his battles fought? Is no more than the class clown?"

"Gibbs led –"

"No, he didn't, Ziva. You've never asked."

"So Tony…"

"Took on Gibbs, Vance, SecNav, the Finance Committee… and Abby, and convinced them all."

"I did not know… I have not tried to find out anything about it, because I did not want to remember… maybe I should have."

Tim didn't answer directly.

"You know what I think? You've met this new guy, and decided that's it. But just in case you've got any lingering feelings for Tony, you're making yourself sure that he's not worth having any lingering feelings for."

He wasn't the only one who could give indirect answers. "You seem to have acquired a psychology degree somewhere along the way, McGee."

He shrugged. "I could be completely wrong about everything, except one thing. He deserves better." He squeezed her shoulder lightly, in awkward apology for his bluntness, and walked off to meet the returning Gibbs.

Tony watched him go. He'd tried not to listen… he really had… and when Tim got to the part about one of the best men she was likely to meet he'd felt embarrassed and guilty beyond words and forced himself away. He shook his head slightly. One of the best men… hell, so are you, McGee, so are you…

Tony straightened up his slumped shoulders, and walked towards Ziva, who stood alone, still as a statue. "Hey… you OK?"

She looked up at him, and in the fading light he wasn't sure if her eyes were a little too bright. "I am fine," she said. "I am sorry I did not take you seriously, Tony. It seemed crazy, and I was impatient… I should have realised that you would not say a crazy thing at a serious time. I want you to know, that I _was_ on my way to tell Gibbs. I hesitated… but I did believe you."

Gibbs and Tim arrived, with a "Nice work, DiNozzo" from the Boss, before Tony could reply, which was as well, since he couldn't think of anything to say. He almost wanted to hug her – hell, he really wanted to hug _Tim_, his _friend_, although he didn't want to get talked about, but neither words nor actions right now could adequately express how he felt. But maybe, he was down from the mountain.

In the end he managed, "I'm glad you're OK. I'm glad he didn't get you. I'm glad he didn't get any of you. I'm glad the team's safe," he added with an intense look of gratitude in Tim's direction. "Well," he added ruefully, observing Gibbs' raised eyebrows, "all the way here I was thinking I might find you all blown to atoms."

Gibbs read the depth of emotion there, and said, "Aw, hell, DiNozzo, you're not going to demand a group hug, are you?"

"Great idea, Boss! No…" as they all looked at him in horror. "No, I was thinking, more, pizza."

Finito!

**AN: Hope that sorted it for you, Snoop… **


End file.
